The Rendering
For the "This Is How I Remember It" challenge
It was coming.
Days of weakening spread into weeks
Like a cancer.
How apt.
How do you deal with a fading?
I don't know now and I didn't know then.
I don't want to know how to deal.
I don't.
*
I was thirteen, an impressionable age.
Not a kid, not an adult -
The unstable bridging time of social awkwardness
And uncertainty in everything.
Let's overanalyse the shit out of this
Sort of mentality.
A swamp for a death to land
And stick.
I loved you.
Round; rolling gait; high-waisted trousers.
You were an egg, a bundle, a barrel -
Nicknames to tease, affectionately given
By those who loved you most.
False teeth flash, thick frames to squint through.
Work boots peering from brown work trousers,
Open neck shirts of brown sunkissed elderly skin.
The smell of Brylcreem to keep your curls in check.
You were large. You are large
In my head as I write this
And I love this image of you as you lived.
It is your going I despise.
I can smell your solidity
As you sat at the table for Sunday lunch.
A farmer, of the land.
But cancer fucked you over
As it does with its wanton needs.
Like a straw in a milkshake,
It sucked and sucked
Until your face sank, like a slack balloon
And your eye became embarrassed
When it moved away from directness
And slunk away to hide behind a patch.
You didn't look like a pirate.
I could've handled that.
You looked ill.
You looked like you were dying
Because you were.
I couldn't...
I couldn't understand why.
I railed at the unfairness of it all.
How?
How could this be happening?
What was eating you?
Why couldn't it be stopped?
Angry, angry tears.
*
My emotions betrayed me.
It was when you winked
With your good eye, your bold eye.
That wink struck me like a wasp sting.
The pain...
I remember it still.
I loved that wink with its essence of you
But it felt like that was all that was left,
Like it was a wave goodbye
And it was
Because I never saw you again.
I wasn't allowed.
For the good of us both.
I was out of control
And you were in the control of something else.
*
God, how I miss you!
Still.
Tears still flow.
Angry, angry tears.
*
I'm older now than my dad was then.
It's been years, almost 40 for me.
40.
A birthday.
Not yours.
Your son's.
That's when you decided to go
That you'd had enough
Or the cancer had.
Left you alone now it'd taken all you had to give.
That night.
The howls.
I knew.
Bed. I was in bed.
Not asleep but waiting.
And then, I heard.
It was a wail, a cry from the soul
Of loss so deep and cutting that it reached out of you
My father,
And sliced into me too.
Scared by the intensity
And scarred by the knowledge.
Is there anything more destabilising than hearing your dad crying?
Feral, like a wolf;
Unfettered; raw.
There is no sound similar
That could compete or compare.
It echoes sometimes in my memories.
I wonder...
I wonder if my cry will sound the same when you are gone
As it did the night your father died?
*
I changed that day, that night.
I knew so much -
That people went.
That men weren't what you thought they were.
That love did not conquer all.
That life would end.
It was a rendering from which there was no return.
*
Dedicated to Grandad Cyril
About the Creator
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Comments (24)
Well-wrought, Rachel, and a well-deserved accolade. Having lost so many to that foul demon myself, I ache and offer my condolences, even after so many years, and hope them well-received.
You were fading, after weeks of weakening... The question how do you deal. I think it answers itself, weirdly enough. It's like, we don't deal with it. It deals with us, sometimes. 'Nicknames to tease, by those who loved you most' oh the irony. Loving you into the hatred of yourself. '...Like a slack balloon and your eye became embarrassed' I have no words. 'what was eating you.' how fragile the body is. How vulnerable to attacks. As I read. It keeps breaking my heart. That wink. It being all that was left. Turning into a wave of goodbye. Why does this life hurt so much, and why can't we find a damn cure for this monster?! I am so sorry for your loss. I just don't know... It's scary. I want to hide, I want to make you feel better. And I also want to hide from all of this, but there's nowhere to go. Congratulations for your Top Story Rachel, sending lots of hugs your way 🤗❤️🎉🎉🎉
Well deserved Top Story, you sure vividly portrayed the agony. So sorry you had to experience this, especially at such a young age.💖
Rachel, you tore my soul with this. Because we all know someone we’ve lost to this terrible disease. Your emotions bled out in every line. Thank you for sharing
This guy plagiarized your work: https://shopping-feedback.today/poets/the-rendering-m176p0uwv%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E%3C/p%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3Cdiv class="css-w4qknv-Replies">
Heartbreaking and wonderful. Congrats on top story! You deserve all the accolades!
Wooo hoo Rachel!! Circling back to say congrats on Top Story!
Well done, Rachel, very deserving.
Such a gut punch. Beautiful writing, though it hurt to read. The wink got me, and so did the line about howls. In a way, mourning like this is a powerful tribute to your grandfather.
Heartbreaking!!! 💕❤️❤️
Back to say congratulations on your Top Story! 🎉💖🎊🎉💖🎊
Rachel, your words made the howling echo, commanding the reader to listen. I can only recall my father crying a time or two, and it's an image that forever remains embedded in my mind. Congratulations on your top story!
Oh crap. A) how did I miss this? b) this is heartbreaking, relatable and just beautifully wrought and fraught with anger and sadness, grief that still feels palpable. Amazing work and if this doesn't place, I'll be pissed off on yours and your Grandad Cyril's behalf! Congrats, you know, on the Top Story, cos that matters, but writing this, getting through this and rendering it so well, so unfiltered, but yet so controlled in a sense - is just so you, so masterful!
The crying out part was particularly impactful Rachel. An effective tribute and exploration of grief when we are young. 😔 Hope you are going well and have a good night.
I am hurting for that young girl that still remembers, Rachel. So many hugs and this was such a powerful expression of love, grief, and comprehension...a terrible rite of passage for you.
Oh damn. This was such an amazing poem. Grandad Cyril sounds like an exceptional bloke. So sorry for your loss. Cancer is such a cruel disease.
I'm so sorry for your loss 🥺 This must have been so painful to write. Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️
So raw and heart warming. Masterfully done.
Oh, I know this feeling well. Cancer is the worst. <3
Ouch... this stings, A LOT! The lines that sent me over the deep end, the ones where you were laying in bed "waiting".... That was me when I lost my person. I still remember the emptiness of it all!! Well done, Rachel!
Wow, Rachel. The way you layered lines of memory with current reflections was so masterfully done. This is of course deeply personal but it had lots of relatable entry points throughout. “ Is there anything more destabilising than hearing your dad crying?” instantly brought up memories for me and the quick response of “no, there’s not”. Beautifully and powerfully rendered!
Ouch, it hits close to home. My granny. And I was almost 14. Now over 50 and a blubbering mess.
A stunning depiction of such raw unfairness and pain—a phenomenal piece. ♥️
So heart wrenching and raw! With turning such pain to art, I hope you feel you’ve shared the burden of it